A Happy Ending
by CatJetRat
Summary: Beginning at the end of Lucifer Rising, this is the story of how Sam and Dean cope with the ways in which they've been torn apart, yet now trust no one but each other, and how they must overcome all their pain in order to defeat Lucifer. Wincest
1. Lucifer Raised

**A/N: **I met yet another straight male today who thinks that Sam and Dean are gay for each other. Not only that, but he still likes the show, regardless. Probably isn't as obsessed with it as I am, but still. He did think it was weird though. I think his exact words were, "I was watching it, and thinking, 'Aren't they supposed to be brothers?'" Hee hee hee. Anyway. New story. Whee! Enjoy. Adios!

-CatJetRat

**Summary:** Takes place at the end of the Season Four season finale. First part does not belong to me, but to Eric Kripke. Everything after "He's coming" is mine, though. This is basically how I would like to see the fifth season play out, but not how I think it will. Wincest, but that's a given, since, as far as I'm concerned, non-graphic Wincest is canon.

_Disclaimer:_ This story was written for the amusement of the author, and hopefully others. I gain no monetary gratification for writing this. The only gratification I get is the love of my fans, and (hopefully) their reviews.

**Chapter One**

**Lucifer Raised**

**Sam**

"Sam! Sam! Sammy!" Dean's voice sounded far away, so very far away. But Sam could hear it. The first voice he ever remembered hearing smashed through a haze created in Sam's mind by demon blood and pure, unadulterated power. Sam turned away from Lilith, hardly daring to believe it.

"Dean?" he breathed. His heart pounded in his ears as his new blood rushed through out his body. Why was Dean here? Was he going to kill him? And if he was, why now, of all times, when Sam was so close to stopping Lilith?

Sam barely registered Ruby screaming at him to kill Lilith. She seemed as unimportant now as she had a year ago when Dean had first been brought back to life.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice broke through again, and despite himself, Sam felt filled with undeserved hope.

Laughter sounded from behind him, and Sam might have ignored it, if it weren't coming from the one creature he despised almost as much as he cared about Dean. Sam slowly turned his head around. Lilith was snorting with laughter, and Sam felt anger flare within him once more.

"You turned yourself into a freak—a monster, and now you're not gonna bite." She let out another derisive laugh. "I'm sorry, but that is honestly adorable."

The demon blood boiled within him. Adorable, was he? Well, see how adorable she thought he was in a few moments. _This is for you, Dean_, Sam thought, and felt fury erupt inside of him once more as he thought about what she'd put him through. Sam raised his hand and clenched her rotted, deranged soul. She arched up and gasped, eyes flaring. Sam's eyes felt flooded, perhaps with tears. She pulled away from him and slumped, gasping. Sam squeezed tighter, and if he'd had room for any emotion other than vengeance, he might have been surprised by how easy this was. She gasped, body going erect again, and yanked away once again, panting heavily. Sam dug his fingers into her very soul, tearing it apart like tissue. She arched one final time, and her eyes shone brighter than ever. But then her eyes shone out, and she fell to the side, blood dripping from her head.

Sam lowered his arm, and though he fought for his breath, he felt triumphant. Finally, finally she was gone. The apocalypse had been averted, and now, he and Dean could—

Wait.

What the hell was her blood doing?

**Dean**

Dean slammed on the door, shouting Sam's name over and over again. Sam couldn't possibly know what he was doing, could he? He couldn't, wouldn't, purposefully bring about the apocalypse, would he?

Dean thought he heard his name spoken in response, but, a few seconds later, was sure he must have imagined it. All he could hear was Ruby screaming at Sam to get on with it. That evil, sadistic bitch. No matter what happened tonight, she was going to die for what she had done to Sam.

Dean grabbed a candleholder and starting trying to break the door down with it. The first time he connected with the door, his fingers slid forward on the metal, and he was jarred to his very bones. Dean ignored it as irrelevant. All that mattered was that he slam down the door before—

The door burst open, and Dean observed three things in quick succession. Sam was lying on the ground, seemingly unhurt, though his face wore an expression of shock and horror. Ruby was kneeling between his legs, clutching at his face. And Lilith was dead. Lilith was dead. Dean's eyes shot back to Ruby, and a hatred that he had never known for anyone, not even for Yellow-Eyes, erupted within him as he jerked her knife out of his belt. She stood up to meet him

"You're too late," she said in a smug, soft voice.

"I don't care," he growled, and barely noticed as Sam stood up behind her and grabbed her arms. Dean's fist tightened on the knife and he slammed it into her belly. She gasped, jerking upward in Sam's arms, but he held on tight as Dean jerked the knife up and twisted it. He watched her face as she died, and felt an indescribable satisfaction as he was finally able to kill her, as he had wanted to from the moment he met her. And the beautiful irony of killing her with her own knife? That was not lost on Dean one bit. He yanked the knife out of her and Sam threw her carcass on the ground. Their eyes shifted about for a few seconds before finally meeting. Sam looked as if he almost expected Dean to turn the knife on him next. As if Dean ever could.

"I'm sorry," Sam choked out, and his voice was so broken and regretful that Dean couldn't bring himself to even try to be angry with him.

Light shone from the middle of the room, and Dean's heart rate, which had almost begun to near calm, sped up again, times a million.

He reached up and grabbed Sam's jacket. Didn't matter that Sam was the one who had cause it. Dean would rather go to hell a hundred times over than leave Sammy here to perish at the hands of Lucifer.

"Sammy, let's go," Dean bit out desperately.

"Dean," Sam breathed, and he grabbed Dean as well. "He's coming."

**Sam**

Sam wasn't sure what he saw in Dean's eyes when they finally looked at each other. Anger? Disgust? No. None of those emotions fit. What he saw was defensiveness and fear. Dean was scared of him, and was using anger as a defense. The only thing that saved Sam from falling completely under at that look in Dean's eyes, was that he knew what Dean looked like when he was scared of a monster, and what Dean looked like when he was scared of his family hurting him. There was no comparison. Dean was afraid that Sam didn't care about him

"I'm sorry," Sam gasped, and his chest felt torn apart at the very words. As if sorry could even begin to make up for anything Sam had done.

Dean's face went from defensive and scared to shocked in less than half a second, and then resolved a second later. Took him all of a second and a half to decide he'd forgiven Sam enough to worry about their issues later.

Sam froze as light emanated from the middle of the blood circle. Slowly, he and Dean turned to face it, and they both reached for each other at the same time, but for different reasons. "Sammy, let's go," Dean half-growled, half-whispered.

"Dean," Sam said desperately. His eyes shifted along the light in terror, and he wasn't sure why he was stopping Dean. "He's coming," Sam breathed.

Dean looked towards the light as it further expanded. He yanked Sam away from it but stopped trying to get Sam to leave. Dean laid a hand on Sam's chest and pushed him further away from the light and stood slightly in front of him. Sam might have been annoyed by this, or he could have been endeared, if he'd had room for any emotion other than terror and guilt.

Dean shielded Sam's eyes and then his own as the light grew too bright to bear. Moments later, the light vanished with a loud boom, and Sam and Dean were left blinking little spots away as they tried to focus on the man kneeling in the middle of the room, facing away from them. Light fell like raindrops around him. His head was bowed, and curly blond hair covered what they could see of his face. Sam was frozen in place, staring at him as he slowly raised his head. With careful, precise movements, he rose to his feet, staring at his hands. He wasn't wearing anything, and his very skin seemed to shine with the light that had come before him.

"Screw this," Dean muttered, and strode across the length of the room, stabbing the knife, still dripping with Ruby's blood, into the man's back. Or, that is to say he tried.

The knife shattered to pieces as each part of it connected with his back. Dean stared dumbly at the hilt in his hand, and the man turned around slowly to face him.

Lucifer was beautiful beyond any human, demon, or angel they had ever met. His face held an elegant grace that no human could ever hope to emulate, even if they had his exact features. It wasn't his body that made him beautiful. It was his soul. His eyes shone a clear, icy blue, and they cut through Dean's green ones like diamonds slicing through emerald.

"You are precious to one of my own," Lucifer murmured. His voice was as beautiful as the rest of him, tinkling with the music of a thousand songbirds and a million eunuchs. Lucifer's eyes moved from Dean to Sam. He sidestepped Dean and walked up to Sam. Dean turned and lunged around Lucifer, blocking Sam's body with his own.

"Don't you dare touch him, you evil sonofabitch," Dean snarled. Unlike most demons, Lucifer did not flick Dean aside as if he were a fly. Instead, he looked into Dean's eyes again, and almost seemed to want to level with him.

"I mean him no harm," Lucifer said softly. "I simply wish to thank him for freeing me. And, as he holds only you dear in this world, I mean you no harm as well."

Had it been anyone but Sam, Dean might have succumbed to that voice, those eyes, and stepped aside. But it was Sam, and no evil in this world or any other could convince him to leave Sam unguarded while he was still breathing.

Except Sam

"Dean," Sam murmured, placing his hands on Dean's shoulder's gently. "Dean, he won't hurt me. Let me talk to him."

Dean froze in uncertainty, but didn't struggle as Sam carefully pushed him to the side.

Lucifer cocked his head, looking at Sam. His eyes flickered to Ruby's dead body for a moment. His gaze softened even more, if it was possible, and he almost seemed remorseful.

"She was the last of the true believers," he sighed. "Such a pity." He looked back at Sam. "She was the best of you all, my child."

"He isn't your child!" Dean bit out. "And what do you mean by, 'the best of _you_ all'? Who's 'you'?"

Sam shot him a warning glance, and barely bit back a groan at the look on Dean's face. Dean had surpassed fear, and now had a look on his face, a look Sam had become quite accustomed to, hunting with him. It was the look of, 'I don't care how tough you are, I'm gonna tear you apart anyway.' It was a look that usually got them into the worst trouble.

Sam grabbed his hand, and Dean looked back at him, his eyes blazing, as Sam looked at him and silently pleaded. Dean held his gaze for a few moments, and nodded, though he was quite quick to extract his hand from Sam's. Sam ignored this and turned back to Lucifer, who had watched their exchange with fascination. He continued as if there had been no interruption, however.

"You were to be their leader," Lucifer said softly. "Until I came. Now I am here, and you needn't worry about such things anymore. You needn't worry about anything. Go wherever you wish, and be with the one you care for. You will be protected wherever you go while I wipe this pitiful, mistake of a race off of the planet. Angels will live on earth again, and when our Father returns he will rejoice once more. He will finally see that keeping me imprisoned was a mistake, and he will proud again, to call me his best."

"That's your big plan?" Dean said in disgust. "To impress Daddy?

Lucifer's eyes flashed back to Dean, and Sam grabbed his hand again and squeezed. Dean ignored him.

"I can't believe this! All of this pain and suffering is happening because you want to be Daddy's favorite little boy again?" Dean's face was incredulous, while Lucifer's was impassive.

"Yes," he stated simply. "But I have wasted enough time here already. Neither of you is a concern of mine. Be happy with each other."

Lucifer vanished.

Sam stared at the space where he had been, conflicting emotions crashing about within him. Normally, at this point, Sam would be pissed as hell at Dean for antagonizing the Prince of Darkness, and also relieved that Dean hadn't gotten hurt. But…none of those emotions felt appropriate at the moment. At the moment, Sam could only feel fear, and guilt. Fear, not only for what was to come, and the people who would get hurt, but fear of looking back up into Dean's eyes, and seeing the betrayal and pain Sam had left there.

Their hands were still laced, and, before Sam knew what was happening, Dean was slowly pulling him towards the door and carefully sidestepping Lilith's blood. Sam, who only moments before had felt nearly invincible as he faced Lucifer, now felt weak, numbness slipping through his body as he followed Dean. Dean, for his part, wasn't saying anything, rather, was just staying as close to Sam as he could, and keeping a firm grip on his hand.

Sam followed Dean out to the Impala. Sam's heart leapt in his throat at the sight of the vehicle _/Home/_ and he allowed Dean to gently maneuver him into the passenger's side. Sam sat there, the numbness now completely taking over his senses, and by the time Dean had circled around the car to the driver's side, Sam was fast asleep.

* * *

Sam rode next to Dean in the Impala. Dean was humming under his breath and tapping the wheel. He'd left the music off because he thought Sam was asleep. Sam stared at him through lidded eyes for a few moments, trying not to look at the frown lines on Dean's forehead. He tried to imagine Dean as he'd once been, carefree and silly, full of love for his family and vengeance towards demons. He tried not to see the shadow in his brother's eyes, once so relaxed when they weren't on a job, now haunted by decades of being tortured. For Sam.

Now they were both broken and torn apart. Now, what had once seemed like a tiring, terrible life to Sam, lit only by the presence of his brother, seemed to be the most wonderful thing he could imagine. To be able to laugh and drink and hunt without question, to help people and eat crappy food and watch stupid movies…it all sounded like heaven. It had once been the life he'd longed to escape. Now he'd give anything to have it back.

"Dean?"

Dean twitched slightly, but that was the only sign that he'd been startled. "Yeah, Sam?" he said heavily, as if certain that the words about to escape his brother's lips could only mean trouble.

"Do you think we'll ever get a happy ending?"

Right again. Dean rubbed a hand across his eyes, teeth gritting. "I don't know, Sam. I don't know what kind of ending could be happy for us."

Sam fell silent, though his heart began to pound fiercely with a kind of dread. "What's the most perfect life you can imagine?" he asked softly, like they were kids again imagining their futures.

Dean swallowed, and while he stared straight ahead at the road, Sam saw his knuckles tighten on the steering wheel.

"A life that doesn't have you in it," Dean hissed, and Sam barely had time to see as Dean shoved a hand into his belt, pulled out Ruby's knife, and plunged it into Sam's stomach.

* * *

"Sam! Sammy! Hey, Sammy, wake up!" Dean's voice sliced through Sam's conscious once more, and Sam jerked awake. He looked over at Dean, whose forehead was creased in worry. Sam grabbed his stomach before he realized what he was doing, and let out a heavy sigh as he realized that there was no stab wound there. _/Just a dream/_

Dean regarded him almost warily, but didn't ask about the dream. "Come on," he said instead, and opened the car door. Sam looked out the window shield. They were stopped outside of a dingy motel at a pit stop. Sam slowly got out of the Impala, his heart pounding once more, though he wasn't positive why.

Sam followed Dean to one of the rooms. The paint on the door was chipped and peeling, and the nine marking their room number 19 had fallen sideways on the door. They entered the room, and Sam sat down on one of the beds, staring at the blank television screen. He was vaguely aware of Dean moving about, laying salt down and other protection items. He was hyperaware, though, when Dean sat down on the other bed, staring at him.

Sam knew that avoiding talking to Dean about everything that had happened was the worst possible thing he could do in that moment, but that didn't mean he had to look forward to it. Sam shifted around on the bed until he had turned to face Dean. Dean's expression was no longer one of fear and anger. Instead, he looked almost like he had when Sam first starting having visions. Slightly wary, and worried.

"I'm sorry," Sam blurted out, before his mind was even aware that his mouth wanted to talk. "I'm so sorry. This…all of this is my fault. I was an idiot, and I believed her, but she lied to me the entire time we knew each other. I…I thought she cared. I thought I could trust her." Sam shook his head. "You…you're the only one I can trust. The only one who's always been there for me. And I threw it away—I threw _you_ away, and I'm so sorry. I know you said you were done trying to save me—but please, Dean. Help me."

Dean's face had been almost impassive the entire time Sam was speaking, but as Sam finished, a small frown formed on his face. "Sam, when did I ever say I was done trying to save you?"

Sam swallowed back the tears that were coming to his eyes. "In your voicemail. You said I was a freak. You implied you were going to kill me."

Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What the hell are you talking about, Sammy? What message? The only message I left you was me saying I was sorry for calling you a monster."

"Wha—no!" Sam cried, pulling his phone out and dialing voicemail. He handed the phone over to Dean as the message replayed, and he could kind of hear the message again from the phone. Tears fell this time as Sam was powerless to stop it.

Dean, on the other hand, was looking angrier and angrier as he went through the message. When it was over, Dean stood up, and said, "That explains why I could reach you at first. The angels wanted me to call you so they could distort my message and leave you thinking I hated you. Sam, I didn't say any of that. It's all a lie."

"You didn't?" Sam hardly dared to believe his ears.

"No," Dean growled. "I told you I was angry, and sorry, and I spent that entire night trying to get back to you." Dean looked angrier than ever, his fist clenching around the phone as he had half a mind to crush it to pieces. Sam grabbed his hand to stop him, and Dean looked back down at him. Dean dropped the phone, gripping Sam's hand more tightly, and lowered himself to his knees.

"I will _never_ be done trying to save you. Do you hear me? _Never_. Even if I get angry and hurt, I will always come around. I will always come back to you. Sometimes," and here Dean let out a little snort, "sometimes it's easier if I have someone remind me. But I'll never be through with you. Not ever, not really." Dean reached a hand up and gripped the side of Sam's head. "You're stuck with me, Sammy."

Sam's tears got the better of him once again, and he dissolved, for the first time in a long time, sliding off the bed and into Dean's welcoming arms.

Nothing had, and nothing would ever seem this right. Sam couldn't believe that he had ever for a second envisioned the possibility that Dean didn't know him better than anyone, that he could ever run away from Dean and be happy.

**Dean**

Dean closed his eyes, laying his head on top of Sam's. Hearing Sam say those things, that he thought for a moment that Dean could ever kill him—those word spoken from his little brother's lips damn near tore his soul apart, in ways that Hell had never done.

All he wanted was this. His brother was with him again, depending upon Dean to take care of him. And Dean more than happily obliged. Because as long as Dean helped control Sam's fate, and Sam helped control Dean's, there was nothing they couldn't do together.

Including stopping Lucifer.

**A/N:** I'm probably going to be working on this fic all summer long. I have found in the past, that when one is working on a fanfiction in anticipation of their favorite show/book coming back out, it helps make the time pass quicker. Because I'm going to desperately try to finish this fic before the next season starts. Gods, I love Supernatural. Anyway, thoughts? I'd love to get some scrumptious reviews to whet my writer's self-obsessed appetite. BTW, I'm looking for a beta, so if any of you lovely reviewers are betas or know a good beta, I would love some recommendations. Next chapter comes as soon as I can wrestle my muse into compliance. Adios!

-CatJetRat


	2. Demons

**A/N:** I can't decide if Sam/Dean has become my OTP or if it remains Harry/Draco. Because certainly there is more canon proof for Sam/Dean, but at the same time Harry/Draco can be done in so many different ways. Idk, the pairings interest me for different reasons. Sam/Dean because of the intense connection possible, and Harry/Draco because of the love/hate passion involved. *Sigh*. I want to say Harry/Draco is my OTP, but I'm pretty frigging obsessed with Supernatural, so who knows? Thoughts, anyone? Who thinks that Harry/Draco should be my OTP, and who thinks that Sam/Dean should be my OTP? Anyway, new chappie! Whee! Lol. Please review, guys. Your feedback would be very helpful and much appreciated. Adios!

-CatJetRat

**P.S.** Cookies to anyone who spots the Torchwood reference.

**Chapter 2**

**Demons**

**Dean**

Dean's eyes twitched slightly as he sensed, rather than saw, the sun coming up. Sam would kill him when he awoke—Dean was supposed to wake him up halfway through the night so Sam could keep watch—but Dean had been too busy relishing in the joy of being able to watch Sam sleep again. Strange, because before, it had been rare that the two of them were ever in enough danger to need one of them to sleep while the other kept watch, but it had happened often enough that Dean had learned exactly what Sam looked like when he was sleeping peacefully vs. what he looked like when he was having nightmares. And oddly enough, despite everything that had happened, Sam appeared to be sleeping like a baby.

It was beginning to look like there had been no need for Dean to stay awake. The night had been quiet, not even broken by the sounds of sirens. Admittedly, Dean was rather surprised. Sure, Lucifer had told them they'd be safe wherever they went, but Dean was not the least bit inclined to trust the Devil, of all people. And the last thing that had happened before Dean found Sam was an archangel about to swoop in and destroy them. Castiel had said he'd hold him off, but Dean knew that it was unlikely Castiel had even survived, let alone defeated the archangel. So why weren't there angels swooping down upon them to burst their eardrums and scorch their eyes? Even if Lucifer could control the demons, no way he could control legions of angels. Which meant…which meant that there were probably a lot more angels on Lucifer's side than any of them ever could have guessed. Dean felt a sinking in his gut as he came to this realization.

A tiny groan sounded from the next bed, and Dean glanced over instinctively. Sam shifted in his sleep, a tiny smile playing across his features. Really, it was odd that Sam was sleeping this contentedly. World about to come to an end, one would think that maybe, just maybe, Sam would be a little anxious. But apparently not. Dean, however, couldn't muster up enough indignation about it to feel anything other than affection as he stared at his little brother. Dean had felt semi tempted several times through out the night to join Sam on his bed and hold him and stroke his hair, like he used to do when they were kids, but he kept himself at bay, if only to be sure that Sam got a decent amount of sleep.

Dean rubbed a hand across his eyes and squinted at the brightening windows. Despite knowing what was out there in the dark, Dean had always been more of a night person. Most likely, that was because most of the strenuous activities he liked to partake in occurred at night. Hunting, pool hustling, bar hopping, entertaining pretty people…there were an endless number of things to do at night, especially in the bigger towns. That was why, when he and Sam had discussed it one boring drive on their way out of Indiana, Dean had decided that if he ever had to become a supernatural entity, he'd choose vampire. Sam had laughed at him and agreed, though he'd said that being a werewolf would be pretty cool too. Dean might have picked werewolf, but he wasn't particularly inclined to say it, as it might bring up bad memories. Sam, however, seemed to have all but forgotten about Madison.

At around eight-fifteen, Sam slowly awoke. Stretching his too-long limbs across the narrow bed, he yawned and squinted at Dean.

"Wha' time's it?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Quarter after eight," Dean said, barely suppressing a grin as Sam shot up in bed.

"What the hell, Dean? You were supposed to wake me up!" Sam's expression of righteous indignation was almost too much for Dean, though he wasn't sure what he wanted more: to crack up or to break down.

Dean cleared his throat. "Doesn't matter, anyway, nothing happened."

"Obviously," Sam muttered crankily.

"Yeah, but the question is: why?" Dean shook his head with a small frown. "Last I checked, we were majorly pissing off both Heaven _and_ Hell, so why aren't they both rainin' down fire and plagues on our asses?"

"Because we weren't pissing them off," Sam said darkly. Before Sam had gone to sleep, Dean had filled him in on the angel's agenda. Sam had promised to discuss it in the morning when he was thinking more clearly. "I freed Lucifer." Sam swallowed, and all for how peaceful he'd been while he was sleeping, he was equally as miserable now that he had awoken. "So now both parties are probably having a little pow-wow and combining their strength." He swallowed again and looked back up at Dean imploringly. "Dean, how the hell are we going to fight both Heaven _and_ Hell if they're both gunning for the apocalypse? I mean, maybe if the entire world was made up of hunters, we could do it, but dude, the only other real hunter we know of is Bobby, and, I mean, I'm sorry, man, but that's just not enough. We don't even have the Roadhouse to go to, so it's not like we can—"

"Sammy, stop!" Dean barked. He couldn't bear to listen to Sam continue to say how fucked they were. Mostly because he was right. "I'm sure Bobby has lots of connections. And you're forgetting about Ellen and Jo. Both of them will be a lot of help in this."

"But Dean, that's five hunters against hundreds, maybe thousands of angels and demons! What can we possibly—"

"Look," Dean said sharply, cutting Sam off again, "Let's just tackle this like it was any other case. Let's just gather information first. See what's brewing and where. My first step?" he added, raising his eyebrows and holding up the remote. "Watch the news. It's likely that anything that's going to happen will be mentioned on there." Dean turned on the television and switched the channel to CNN. He plopped down next to Sam, ignoring his disgruntled sigh. The only attention Dean gave him was when Sam started to shift over. Dean lightly laid a hand on Sam's wrist to stop him. Sam hesitated, and stopped shifting, choosing instead to lean back into the pillows and relax. Dean wasn't sure where the sudden need to have Sam close to him came from. It wasn't like they'd been separated for a terribly long time. And yet…it had _felt_ like forever. Dean actually almost felt like he was coming back home to Sam again after Hell. And he couldn't really resist the need to have Sam close to him at all times, as he had then.

They watched the news in silence for an hour. That is to say, _Sam_ watched the news in silence for an hour. Dean grew bored after about five minutes and passed out against Sam's shoulder.

Dean was having a lovely dream about two acrobat twins when he was roughly shaken awake. "Dean," Sam said, in a voice lace with fear. Dean was awake in one second flat, his brain hardwired to be on instant alert anytime he heard that tone in his brother's voice.

"Sammy?" Dean said warily, scoping out the room for any danger before quickly focusing in on his brother. But Sam didn't seem to be in any immediate danger, and was pointing at the television set. Dean turned towards the screen, squinting through the sleep that had accumulated in his eyes.

"—and late last night the hearts of nine children were cut out by a Catholic priest, who said that the Lord had spoken to him and told him to do it. More on this story after—" The voice faded out as Dean stopped paying attention to the screen and started paying attention to Sam's white face and pinched lips.

"Sam, religious leaders go crazy all the time," he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "It's part of being religious—"

"No, Dean," Sam said. His voice was shaking. "It was him. Earlier, while you were asleep, there was a brief clip of the priest talking about the "lord". He described him as an unclothed man with curly blond hair, and a face more beautiful than anyone could ever imagine. He said his skin _shone_ with the light of Heaven." Sam's voice turned to a sneer at the end, and Dean suppressed a flinch. Sam looked down, and there were tears in his eyes.

Dean knew what was going through his little brother's head, and he was determined to stop it before it got out of control. "No, Sam," he said, rather harshly. "Stop blaming yourself. Don't you even remember?"

"Remember what?" Sam said, rather thickly, rubbing his tears roughly away from his eyes.

"I started it, Sam," Dean said, and Sam froze.

"You never told me that," Sam said, voice breaking as he stared at Dean. Dean closed his eyes and opened them again.

"I forgot I hadn't," Dean said quietly. "I found out right before Zachariah took away all of our memories. I must have just thought I told you." Dean sighed deeply, steadying himself for this. "The first seal—it could only be broken when a righteous man spilled blood in Hell." Dean's voice began to shake, just as Sam's had. "Cas said that I was that man. I was the one who did it." Dean stared at the ground for a few moments, and then looked back up at Sam with a ferocity that scared even him. "But it doesn't matter anymore. I started it, and you finished it, and neither of us had any idea what we were doing. So we both need to stop guilt-tripping ourselves and start focusing all of our efforts onto stopping him. Neither of us meant to start the apocalypse, but we did. Together," Dean added with a small snort. "But our regret doesn't matter. The only thing that means a damn anymore is doing everything in our power to stop the world from ending. Whaddya say, Sammy?" Dean grinned at him, and though even he could feel the weakness in his grin, Sam smile back. "You want to help me save the world?"

**Sam**

Sam smiled irresistibly back at Dean as he said, "If anyone can do it, we can."

Dean's smile broadened and he squeezed Sam's shoulder. "Good. I've got to go take a shower, then we'll hit the road; head over to Bobby's." Dean got up off the bed and headed towards the bathroom.

"Fine, but I'm driving," Sam called after him. "You need to get some sleep. Dying in a crash because you can't keep your eyes open isn't exactly the heroic death I picture for you."

Dean smirked back at him and closed the bathroom door.

Sam closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillows. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was _wrong_. There was no reason for him to feel that way, after all, Dean was back with him, and, as Sam had said, together, there was nothing they couldn't do. And yet…it all seemed so fast. Other than last night, they hadn't really discussed what had happened between them, and though things seemed almost as normal with their relationship as it had been before Dean had gone to hell, Sam still felt a little worried. What if Dean was keeping his emotions bottled up, and everything went to hell again with unspoken anger and lies? No, no, before they went anywhere they would need to discuss everything that had transpired over the past year. Dean wouldn't like it, and Sam didn't feel terribly thrilled about it either, but it had to be done.

And then there was that _other_ thing. The demon blood. Ruby told Sam before her death that he had never needed the demon blood to kill Lilith, but that didn't explain all the withdrawal symptoms he had experienced when Dean and Bobby had locked him up. Shouldn't he be experiencing them again? Or had that all been imagined? Or perhaps—and here Sam's blood went cold—perhaps it had been the result of being trapped in a room made of iron and salt, with a Devil's Trap on the floor. But that still didn't make sense. _Sam_ wasn't a demon. Was he?

Sam shot out of bed like a bullet and practically ran over to the mirror. He looked fearfully into his shaky hazel eyes, scared of what he might see.

But there was nothing. Just his eyes, the same eyes that had looked back at him in the mirror for the past twenty-six years. Sam sagged in relief, and then Dean's voice called out to him.

"Sammy! I'm hungry! Let's grab some grub before we go to Bobby's," Dean hollered.

It was a short, insignificant little saying, but it did the trick. Sam's eyes flashed black at hearing Dean's voice. Sam stumbled back in horror, tripping over the bed and landing face first on the carpet.

_Nononononononono._

He was a demon.

**Dean**

Dean smiled to himself as he hummed underneath his breath, toweling his hair dry. He felt more relaxed than he had in ages. He and Sam were together again, they had something to hunt…the world was right again. Okay, no, the world wasn't right, the apocalypse was nigh, but, as Sam had said, together, there was nothing they couldn't do.

Dean wrapped the towel around his waist and went out to the bedroom. Sam was sitting on the bed, about as still as a tree, and Dean instantly went on alert. Something was wrong.

"Sammy?" he said warily. "Sam, what's going on?"

"We have to go see Missouri," Sam said in a shaky voice.

"Why? What's happening?" Dean's heart began to race, and he flicked his eyes to the blank television screen. Had something else come on the news? Something worse?

Sam closed his eyes, covering them with his hands, and made a small keening noise. "Dean," he moaned, and tears began to fall from his eyes. Dean was by his side in a second, kneeling down in front of him and pulling Sam's hands away from his eyes.

"Sammy?" he asked unsteadily. "Sammy, talk to me."

"Please don't hate me," Sam choked out, falling off the bed, and Dean began to experience déjà vu. This was similar to last night, except that now, Dean had no idea what was going on.

Dean forced out a laugh. "Sam, I could never hate you, you know that. Just tell me what's going on. We'll fix it, whatever it is. Remember? Together, we can fix anything."

"Not this," Sam whispered. He finally opened his eyes and looked at Dean. For a moment, his eyes were the same eyes that had looked to Dean trustingly to take care of him for twenty-six years. Then Sam's eyes focused on him, and they turned black.

Dean jerked involuntarily, but he stayed where he was, gripping Sam's hands more tightly. He let go with one hand and reached up, pulling Sam's shirt down and sideways. The protective mark was still there, whole and unbroken. Which could only mean….

"You're a demon," Dean said, in a surprisingly steady voice.

Sam nodded, shutting his eyes again. "I guess so. I don't know if it was the blood, or if it was Ruby, or _me_, but I think I might be."

Dean wasn't sure why he wasn't more surprised. Perhaps it was because of what Castiel had said about Sam being changed forever if he drank enough blood to kill Lilith. Maybe a part of him knew what Lucifer had meant when he'd said, "all of you," and directed the comment towards Sam. Or perhaps it was because Dean knew that for the two of them, life could never be simple.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said, and Sam's eyes shot open in surprise. Dean was relieved that his eyes were back to normal, because it made it easier to tell what was probably a lie, and believe it. "We'll go to Missouri. I'm sure she'll be happy to see us. It has been a while. She'll fix everything. She'll tell us what we have to do, who we have to see. And if she doesn't know, Bobby will. I'm sure there's some cleansing ritual out there for getting the demon out of your soul." Dean grinned, and though to him it felt fake, Sam's eyes shone with hope, and that was worth a thousand lies. "We'll be okay, Sammy. You've got me to protect you."

"Thank you," Sam whispered brokenly. "Thank you." He buried his face in Dean's chest, and Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother again.

Dean knew that he should probably still be angry with Sam over everything that had happened, everything Sam had put him through, but god help him, he couldn't bring himself to be angry when Sam was weeping in his arms, begging Dean to help him. Demon or no demon, Sam was his brother. And it wasn't like Sam had done anything so terrible to become a demon. He had just trusted another demon and drank her blood, all in a misguided attempt to get revenge on the creature who had dragged his big brother to hell. Frankly, Dean was rather surprised that that was all it took. After all, Dean had spent ten years torturing souls, so why wasn't he the one saddled with the demonic might?

It was probably a question he'd never get an answer to unless a top-level demon or an angel was feeling generous one day, so there was no point in killing himself over it.

Dean kissed the top of Sam's head. "Come on, little brother. Let's get the hell out of Maryland and head to Kansas."

Sam nodded, and they stood up. Dean noticed that he was still in a towel, and chose to not reflect on the weirdness of him clutching his brother while nearly naked. Dean got dressed while Sam gathered up their things.

They left the motel room spotless, and if it weren't for a few of Sam's hairs on the pillow, no one would even know they were there. As they drove away, those hairs vanished, as did the memories of them that the clerk had gained when they'd checked in the night before. However, Sam and Dean remained blissfully unaware of this. For a time.

**Sam**

Dean had insisted upon taking control of the wheel again, affirming that Sam was in no condition to drive, and Dean wasn't that tired anyway. Sam saw right through his bullshit but chose to not protest, mostly because Dean was right. Sam was shaking too hard to even think about trying to get behind the wheel of a car. Especially not Dean's car.

They stopped to eat at a surprisingly good Mexican restaurant, though Dean still grumbled that the only place in the U.S. you could get _real_ Mexican was in Texas. Sam grinned and promised that they'd stop by there after Kansas. Dean grimaced at Sam and continued monopolizing the queso. Sam grinned at him and chose to concentrate on the salsa, which was depressingly weak. Dean was right. Texas was the only place where restaurants had enough balls to give their salsa a real kick.

After they ate, Sam refused to let Dean drive, on the grounds that Dean had nearly fallen asleep at the table. Too tired to argue, Dean handed the keys over and passed out in the passenger's side.

They arrived in Kansas two days later. Dean tried to get Sam to let him keep watch while Sam slept, but Sam convinced him that it was pointless; after all, Lucifer had promised to keep them both safe. Dean wasn't thrilled that Sam was so willing to trust the Devil, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Sam was probably right.

Lawrence looked exactly the same as it had the last time they'd been there, over three years ago. Sam mentioned maybe going and seeing Jenny, Sari, and Ritchie, but Dean refused, and Sam sat in silence the rest of the way to Missouri's house. He was beginning to feel anxious, though he wasn't positive why. But it wasn't good.

**Dean**

They pulled up in front of Missouri's house, and got out of the car. Missouri emerged from her house, eyes flaring.

"Stop right there," she commanded, and Sam froze. Dean moved around the car to stand next to Sam, frowning at Missouri.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, though he could feel his entire body tensing. _She knows._

"You know damn well what's wrong, boy," Missouri said coldly. "I hope to hell you weren't thinking about bringing that kind of evil into my house."

Sam's face fell, and he looked crushed. Dean felt fury flare inside of him. "Sam's not evil," Dean snarled. Missouri looked at him in disgust.

"He's a damn demon," she hissed, and her entire face was transformed. She looked nothing like the kindly woman who had helped them out and guided them three years ago. She was livid, and terrifying. "And both of you started the apocalypse. How dare you even come near me?"

"We thought you could help," Dean said in a clipped tone. "We thought you could tell us what we could do to save Sam."

She laughed incredulously. "You want to know what you can do? Take that knife of yours and plunge it into your brother's heart. That's the only way you can save him, now."

Dean felt quite ready to take his knife and plunge it into _her_ heart. "He didn't do it on purpose," Dean said angrily. "Neither did I. I'd like to see how long you last in hell before you crack."

"I wouldn't be stupid enough to sell my soul in the first place," Missouri sneered.

"Get in the car, Sam," Dean said, eyes not leaving Missouri's. He heard Sam comply, and he slowly walked up to Missouri. "You have no right to judge Sam, _or_ me. We did the best we could. And unlike you, we spent our lives saving people. You stay here in your cozy little house and pretend you don't know what's going on. And I am sorry that the apocalypse is starting, but Sam and I are going to do everything we can to stop it. We thought you'd want to be a part of that."

"Well you thought wrong," Missouri snarled.

"Clearly," Dean said in an even, cold tone. "Goodbye, Missouri."

He turned on his heel and went back over to his Impala and Sam. "Let's get the hell out of here," Dean said, his voice full of barely contained fury. Sam just nodded, his face white, lips tight. Dean started the car and tore out of the driveway, looking for the fastest route out of that damned city. They would head to Bobby's next. At least they knew they could count on him.

Behind them, Missouri walked back inside her house. She shut and locked her door, went to her kitchen, and collapsed on the floor as black smoke flooded out of her mouth.

**A/N:** Thoughts? Please review, guys. I know there are a bunch of you who've placed me on alert, and it would be nice to hear your thoughts on my story. 115 more days, 16 hours, 21 minutes until the next Supernatural episode, as I write this now. Adios!

-CatJetRat


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